


A Summer's Grace

by orphan_account



Series: A Flower for Every Tear [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Just some soft things, The character isn't the best, but they're trying, will i ever name them? probably not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:33:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21642994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A short about a heartless character.
Series: A Flower for Every Tear [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1560247
Kudos: 1





	A Summer's Grace

From the very moment I was born, I knew I had no heart. The emotional, and spiritual sense of a heart, as doctors would have defined me as dead if I had no physical heart. A baby that did not cry, a toddler that did not laugh, not a genuine emotion was felt in my years of living. Even still, my parents were beautiful. They nurtured me to care, with a patient hand and understanding eyes, while I could not naturally gain the feeling of kindness, or warmth, I knew it was the good thing to do.

I questioned it in my youth, as a child that watched the other children play and push each other. Some made others cry, and I wondered why they did that. Did it not hurt? Was it not painful to make another suffer? But like winds, children change. Give them a concerned pat, and gentle coo, they learn from their mistakes. Children are simpler than adults, and they only copy behavior. I should know that best after all.

When I entered elementary, there were plenty of harsh words. Boys who were told being tough was what they should be and that crying was taboo. Girls who were mature because they were not allowed to complain. Children who took what they wanted because they were spoiled, children who never held onto anything because they were repressed. Why did the world make such awful circumstances? Children are beautiful things. Sincere, hopeful, a sparkle in their eyes for what the future held. Every single one I saw was determined to grow up and do things they were told they could not do until they were older. Only, I saw these glimmers of life fade in time. Teenagers can be so cruel.

They harrow each other with insults and snarky comments. Pushing and pulling in this malformed prepubescent hierarchy. The strong were those sporty types that were forced to only think of themselves. The rich kids who were never taught that people had value more precious than money. Girls who only cared about being pretty, because the world hounds them to fitting the mold. Their young eyes and hearts knew only of bad lessons, they never learned better. The bullies came in all forms, but all had a lack of compassion. Some, though, fought too stay on top. Worried of being bullied again now that they have struck fear.

There was a boy in 6th grade who had crooked teeth. There was a girl in 5th grade that had a lisp. A girl in 7th had curly, frizzy hair. A boy in 8th had a large body full of fat. There were countless more victims, and I could not help but wonder. Why did they not see the 6th grader's brown eyes, that shone like honey? The way his laugh was so heartfelt despite the hardships he faced. He was kind despite being pummeled in the hallways. Why did they not see the girl for her thoughts and words? Her lisp did not hinder the things that she said, and she was brilliant in so many ways. She kept winning awards and had great grades but her lisp was all those kids cared about. The 7th grader's wild hair was awe inspiring, the way it danced in the sunlight and bounced undisturbed. The clips and ties she wore each day were vibrant colors, patterns that stood out in the nest of black curls. Her voice when she sang could pull anyone to tears, yet they only took note of her hair. The large boy was great at music, he wrote poetry in his quiet moments. He was a soft heart behind the mask that laughed at jokes that cut too sharp. Not once did anyone stop to think he had feelings, let alone if they hurt them. Yet some teenagers grow despite this, determined to be better. If no one will teach them, they change as they age and learn by themselves how to be a person. Teenagers are beautiful things.

The things said and done only got worse as we age. Jealousy, urgency, the thought of being someone at the age of 15 or younger haunted everyone. Why was that so? Not everyone is a genius at everything. No one grows in a day. No one can nourish love in an hour. My empty chest stays heavy with a longing to feel. As a child my parents spent years teaching me to love the things not everyone could appreciate. Day after day was a lesson in kindness, compassion, good moral values, they never once stopped believing I could be good even when I hurt that bird, or crushed ants. Even when I got fed up with being taught things I did not understand. Even when I got in trouble for fighting in school. They kept pursuing, hoping- no, _knowing_ that I could become better. There are other adults who feel this way too. People who persevere no matter how long it takes because they know things will change, and that their efforts will not be in vain. People are such beautiful things.

I am in my thirties, and not a day is spent without loving someone for something, or appreciating the way the environment is behaving. A fallen leaf on an autumn day, a frozen twig one cold winter afternoon, the way the brook sounds in the springtime, a frog in the yard during summer. Still, I do not think I can genuinely feel these things on my own, but I spend my life living this way regardless, for it brings comfort to others. The friends I have made always point out how loving I am. Each time, I feel undeserving of such praise. One day though, I hope I can feel these things on my own, without having to correct my apathy. It may not be soon, it may not happen until I am on my deathbed, but I continue to do what is good. For love cannot be nourished in an hour, no matter how hard I will it, I cannot grow in a day. I have my own time and place, when my chest will be full with the love I gave.


End file.
